“No One Will Save You,” Her Ex-Husband Warned—Then The Mafia Boss Heard Every Word

The shock of the freezing water felt like a thousand needles stabbing Vivienne’s skin simultaneously.

The dark river roared in her ears, dragging them down into the icy depths. Her lungs screamed for air, the cold threatening to shut down her heart in seconds.

Then strong, muscular arms hauled her upward.

They broke the surface under the shadow of the massive wooden pillars of Pier Fourteen. Roman was gasping for air, spitting river water, but his grip on her never wavered.

“I’ve... got you,” Roman panted, kicking violently against the heavy current, dragging her toward an iron maintenance ladder bolted into the concrete seawall.

Vivienne reached for the rusted rungs, her fingers completely numb, barely able to close around the metal. Roman shoved her up from behind with sheer brute strength, forcing her out of the lethal water onto the wooden platform of the abandoned pump station.

He pulled himself up seconds later, collapsing beside her on the wooden planks, chest heaving, water pouring from their clothes in dark puddles.

Above them, on the high bridge, sirens wailed in the distance. The black snowplow and Petrov’s mercenaries were scouring the water with high-powered searchlights, but the dense fog and drifting river ice hid the pier completely.

Vivienne lay on her back, shivering violently, her teeth chattering so hard they clattered.

Roman crawled over to her immediately. He didn't check his own wounds. He ripped off his soaking tactical vest, pulled a manual emergency flare from the wall box of the pump station, and cracked it against the stone.

Red, hissing heat flared to life, illuminating the small concrete shelter.

He pulled Vivienne into his arms, using his broad body and the heat of the flare to warm her freezing frame.

“Look at me, Vivienne,” Roman commanded, his voice trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from the raw, terrifying fear of losing her. “Stay awake. Keep your eyes on me.”

Vivienne looked into his pale gray eyes.

Even soaked in freezing river water, with blood dripping from a grazed bullet wound on his collarbone, he looked like a dark god carved from granite.

“I’m... I’m awake,” she stammered through purple lips.

Roman buried his face in her wet hair, holding her so tightly she could feel the violent shudder of his breath against her skin.

“You’re insane,” he whispered fiercely. “You jumped into a frozen river without a second thought.”

“You... jumped with me,” she countered, a faint, shivering smile touching her lips.

“I would follow you into the gates of hell, Vivienne Cross,” Roman growled, his lips crashing down onto hers.

The kiss was desperate, frantic, tasting of salt, river water, and an undeniable, burning passion born in the crossfire of death. Vivienne wrapped her freezing arms around his neck, pulling him down, letting the blazing heat of his mouth melt the ice in her veins.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes burned with an icy, merciless resolve.

“The leak,” Vivienne whispered, the adrenaline clearing her mind. “Who told them about the bridge, Roman?”

Roman stood up slowly, looking toward the city skyline glowing across the dark water.

His face was a mask of cold, unadulterated death.

“Elena,” Roman said flatly. “She was the only one who had the private routing codes for the convoy. Matteo was stationed at the north gate. Elena wanted you dead to protect the syndicate’s balance sheet.”

Vivienne stood up beside him, leaning against the wooden railing, watching the distant lights of the Manhattan high-rises.

“What happens now?” she asked.

Roman reached into his boot, pulling out a waterproof satchel containing a satellite phone. He dialed a single, secure number.

“Matteo,” Roman spoke into the receiver, his voice dropping into a deadly baritone. “I’m alive. Lock Elena in the basement vault. Call the captains. Tell them the war is over, and the cleansing begins tonight.”

He ended the call, slipping the phone away.

Roman turned to Vivienne, holding out his hand.

“Tonight, I take the city back,” Roman said softly. “And tomorrow morning, you take your family’s throne. Walk with me, Vivienne. Let’s show them what happens when you try to kill a queen.”

Vivienne took his hand, her grip unyielding and fierce.